Four Simple Words
by Anonyme
Summary: How much pain can four simple words cause? 1 of 1


Title: Four Simple Words

Author: Becky

Classification: I think it would be safe to say this is angst.

Spoilers: Anything up to and including Crossings.

Summary: How much pain can four simple words cause?

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own them. They belong to JJ and Co. I just want to play with them for a little bit. I'll return them unharmed. At least physically unharmed. 

Feedback: Oh yes, please. 

Author's Note: This story has had more lives than 10 cats. I've tried to ignore it, kill it, delete it; you name it, I tried it and nothing worked. And then I read the requirements for the Feb SD-1 Challenge and well here it is.

Thanks much to Jen and Denise for encouraging me to post this. While this is a stand alone piece, in my mind, it works best if you read the story Menteur first.

Here is a link to that Simple Words

Much unhappiness has come into this world because of things left unsaid. You don't know why you're thinking about this now as you sit at the back of the plane, away from the others. Away from _him._ Maybe it is because of what he tried to tell you earlier. 

You wanted very much to let him say those words you longed to hear from him for so long, but you stopped him. You didn't let him tell you that he loved you. That he _still_ loved you. You couldn't let him tell you that. Even thinking you were going to your death, you couldn't let him tell you.

_Why?_

At the time, it was because you didn't want your situation to be the cause of his declaration. But now… Now, you realize it is because you knew Fate would never be so kind. It would never be so generous as to let your suffering, your _torment_ end so simply. No, you've never been that lucky.

Once upon a time, you thought you were. You had a man who loved you and whom you loved. You were doing something worthwhile with your life, even if you could never admit it out loud. And with one simple vocalization of a dream, you admitted what you swore you never would. That simple transgression damned you and everyone around you; damned everyone you loved.

And it still damns you. So you sit here pondering all the things left unsaid and you realize that what _has_ been said has caused just as much unhappiness, just as much pain.

_I slept with Will_.

It was simple enough to admit. But when he asked you how he was supposed to react to that, you honestly didn't know how to answer. Telling him that he could react anyway he wanted was the best you'd been able to come up with.

But there are others that have been spoken that have caused him just as much pain as those you uttered today.

_I would have waited_.

When you said that you were hurt. You couldn't allow yourself to feel pity for what he had gone through. No, you had been too focused on _your_ own pain to even try to deal with his. So you made him suffer all the more.

You glance up to the front of the cabin, not surprised when your eyes meet his. Quickly you shift your gaze to the window and the blackness on the other side. You understand that as painful as your admission about Will must have been for him to hear, you could still make things worse.

You could make him hate you.

You _should_ make him hate you.

You rest your head against the glass, your eyes closed. You know it would be for the best. You know that it would free him from this torture of being torn between the past and the present. Between the life he _had _ and the life he _has_.

Four simple words could free him.

_I was never broken._

He might not believe this. Not without the details to back it up. More details than Kendall's explanations provided. Even with the disc, you doubt he'd believe you could do such a thing. That you could let him believe you were dead. That you could let _everyone_ believe you were dead.

_I was never Julia_.

That statement might get his attention. Especially after the first, but he'd still require proof. Proof your memory cannot divulge. Proof that you willingly erased.

You know that he'd try to comfort you. To tell you that it was okay. That you did what you had to do in order to survive. And you'd let him. And you'd be right back to where you started.

_Julia was always me._

Again, you would have his attention, but not his hate. No, that would be directed at that faceless entity known as the Covenant. And it wouldn't do either of you any good.

_I'm my mother's daughter._

He'd argue with you, tell you that you are _not_ your mother. So you would begin a list of all the sins you committed while you were pretending to be someone you know now was always a part of you.

Each statement you'd make, he'd refute. He'd come up with some reasonable explanation as to why you had done what you did. But there is one that he couldn't, _wouldn't_ be able to rationalize. 

_I slept with Simon._

You know he knows this. From the encounter you had when you made contact at the bar, he _has_ to know this. It would take more than that simple statement to convince him of everything you'd said. But here, you could give him the proof he wanted. The proof he needed. The proof that would finally make him despise you.

You hadn't expected to find it. And after you had, you wanted to call Kendall to find out just who had seen it. You wanted to destroy it, to forget it had ever existed. But you didn't. You didn't call Kendall and you didn't destroy the dvd. You kept it as a reminder, not a souvenir, a reminder of a past you no longer remembered. A past you'd been desperate to escape. Desperate to forget.

You don't know how many times you've watched it now. Each time, you try to find some part of the woman you were pretending to be. All you ever find is yourself. And as scary as that is for you, what scares you more is that you seemed to enjoy it.

You have to correct yourself at your last thought. There is no question. You _enjoyed_ it.

Again.

And again.

And _again._

You enjoyed fucking Simon. And that's what you did. You fucked him. You and Vaughn made love. You and Simon fucked.

You want to believe that it was Simon's idea to first tape these illicit meetings. But by the end, you know you were as much an active participant in that as what was being recorded.

There are times you find yourself wondering what his touch felt like. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing. Whether he was rough or gentle, he always elicited a response. 

Just as the gentle hand on your shoulder now elicits such longing that you can barely cope. You look up, and your eyes meet again. And more than anything, you want to let yourself get lost in them like you have so many times before. But you can't. You can't let that happen again.

You listen as he tells you that you'll be landing soon, and you shift just enough so that his hand falls from your shoulder. He steps back and you know you are back to the way things have been ever since you woke up in Hong Kong.

You turn away from his gaze, looking back out the window, but he doesn't leave. Not at first. Finally, he goes back up front and you sigh softly in relief. You wonder if you'll ever find the courage to do what you know you must. You wonder if you'll ever find the courage to let him go.

When the plane touches down, you stand, allowing Vaughn to lead Leonid out first. And as you slowly make your way down to the tarmac, you think about all that remains unsaid between you. And you know that you won't ever be able to let him go. Because of four simple words.

_I still love him._

~fin~


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